


The Invisible Connor Murphy

by nikkithedead



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson, The Invisible (2007)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Connor-centric, Eventual Happy Ending, Gay Connor Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen), M/M, References to Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-18 15:13:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18122840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikkithedead/pseuds/nikkithedead
Summary: Connor Murphy killed himself. Or at least, he tried to. Now he's stuck in a state of limbo, invisible to everyone around him. The only person who can see him? A kid named Evan Hansen.Eventual Connor/Evan.





	1. Prologue: Death

 

_ “I’m not dead; but who could call this a life?” _

_ \--The Chumscrubber _

The park wasn’t empty when Connor arrived. It was nearing dark, and he’d expected all the pre-schoolers and their nannies to be gone by the time he got there. Apparently he was wrong, because there was still a few kids, maybe 7 or 8 years old, sliding down the big red slide and swinging on the jungle gym. Grinding his teeth, Connor decided to take a walk and loop back around in a little while. The sun was setting, they couldn’t have been planning to stay much longer. Time to get the little ones home for supper, chop chop. Can’t keep mummy and daddy waiting… 

Putting his hands in his pockets, he headed for the woods. He clasped his fingers around the contents of his pocket. A bottle of prescription painkillers. 

As he walked, Connor thought about the note. It wasn’t his note. He didn’t have a note of his own, actually. Hadn’t written anything at all, unless you counted his own name, on that weird kid’s cast. That was right before he’d found the note, and had a melt down. He felt calmer now… now that he knew there was an out. 

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if that kid had meant for him to find it. Had he wanted to hurt him, wanted to mock him and make fun of him? Connor had pushed him that morning, wanting revenge would make sense. He hadn’t meant to push him, or lash out at the computer lab… it just happened. 

He’d like to say that was why he was doing this. Because he felt like the world would be better off without his crazy ass in it. But that was a lie, and he knew it. He didn’t care about the world, or making it better. What had the world ever done for him? Mocked him, laughed at him, called him a freak behind his back. Fuck the world, quite honestly. And fuck everyone in it. 

No, he knew why he was doing this. He was doing it because it had to be done. Because each day was worse than the last, a horrible nothingness, day in and day out. It was endless and it was all consuming, the nothingness. In his mind, in the deep cavern of his brain there was a dark void, and inside that void was a screaming that deafened him. 

It was quiet now, as he popped the childproof lock on the painkillers. He wanted to do it in the park, but who cared, at the end of the day. The woods would do. It was actually somewhat peaceful where he was. He was at the peak of a rocky hill, leading down to a ravine beneath. There were trees stretching before him, the huge kind that had lived there for hundreds of years, and would live for a hundred more after Connor’s body was long gone. 

The thought was comforting. 

He took the pills, and as he waited to be gone, he thought of the note once more. 

_ Dear Evan Hansen…  _

Connor wondered if that was his name. The weird kid from the computer lab. Why he was writing a letter to himself, Connor didn’t know. 

_...I mean face it, would anyone notice if I just disappeared tomorrow… _

Maybe he hadn’t been trying to hurt him. Maybe he was just a weird kid, writing a weird, sad letter to himself. Why he mentioned Zoe, he couldn’t understand. He supposed he never would, considering that in a few moments, his ability to understand anything would be null and void. 

Evan Hansen, Connor thought, as his eyelids began to drop closed. That was the last person he was ever going to talk to. 

Shame. It hadn’t even been a very meaningful conversation. 


	2. Part 1: Purgatory

_“The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.”  
_ _\--Mark Twain (misquoted)_

There was a noise. A loud noise. It sounded like… a bird. Which begged the question;

_What the fuck?_

Connor opened his eyes, which pissed him severely off because he should no longer have been able to do that. Or anything. That sort came with the package of being, you know, _dead._

Which evidently Connor was not. He was lying at the top of the hill where he’d taken the pills, and against all odds, he was alive. Had he vomited, thrown up the pills? Didn’t seem like it. What gives, then? Maybe he’d fucked up the dosage, not taken enough. That was the only thing he could think, but he’d been sure what he’d taken was enough to do the job.

Groaning, Connor sat up and brushed the leaves from his hoodie. Now what? Home, he supposed… God, his parents were going to be so pissed that he’d stayed out all night, again. He would never hear the end of it.

Deciding to put that conversation off for as long as possible, Connor tried to think of where else he could go. School, was of course, not an option. Not today, anyways. School was not supposed to be a thing anymore. Not that he’d ever had much of a use for it.

Where then, would he go? He could always head downtown, to the used book store on Main Street. As far as places went, that one wasn’t horrible. They played decent music and the owner didn’t mind if you sat and read in the aisles. Connor thought he was just happy to have any customer, even one notorious for reading and not buying, like Connor was.

It wasn’t that he didn’t have money-- he did. Or that he didn’t _want_ to buy books. It was just that if he came home with a book, his parents might try and ask him about it. They got excited about shit like that. He’s _reading_ again. He has a _hobby._ Maybe it’s not a lost cause after _all…_

He couldn’t deal with that. Better not to get their expectations too high.

He sighed, thinking over the word _high._ That would be nice, right about now. But of course, he’d left his weed at the last place in the world he wanted to go. His locker, at school. That had been stupid, of course, but he’d been planning on smoking it after school. There was a good spot in the field out back, behind the sports equipment center… But he’d gotten so upset at that stupid note from weird Evan Hansen that he’d forgotten all about it and gone home.

So it seemed like school was the place he was heading.

***

The first signs of something being wrong began to whisper in Connor’s ear on the walk to school. His cell phone wasn’t working, and he couldn’t figure it out. The battery was half full, the screen wasn’t cracked or damaged, everything _seemed_ fine. But when he touched it, it didn’t work. He tried to check his voicemail, to delete the messages inevitably let by his parents, but when he pressed the app nothing happened. When he pressed _anything_ nothing happened.

It made no sense.

When he arrived at school, he headed straight for his locker. But that wouldn’t work either. He dialed the combination, pulled the lock open and tried to take it off, but it wouldn’t budge. He tried again and again but it stayed stuck. Getting frustrated, he slammed his fist against the locker, again and again.

A janitor came up behind him. “My lock’s broken or something,” Connor said, moving out of the way. Without a word, the janitor took out bolt cutter and cut the lock off. Connor tried to get back into his locker, but the janitor wouldn’t move. He began taking out his stuff, throwing it into a bag. “Hey, what the fuck--” He grabbed the janitor’s shoulder and turned him around. “The fuck are you doing, dude?” He shouted. But the janitor was still pulling things out of his locker, as if he couldn’t hear him. As if he hadn’t even touched him.

Turning around, not knowing where he was doing, Connor ran into a guy holding an ice coffee. Smacking into him, the ice coffee collided with the guy’s white shirt, staining it brown. “Shit--” Connor backed away, looking down at his hoodie for coffee stains. When he looked up again, the guy was walking off, drinking his iced coffee. No stains in sight. Like he hadn’t even crashed into him.

Turning around, the hair stood up on the back of Connor’s neck as a shiver of fear ran through him. Why was the janitor ignoring him. Had he imagined knocking into that guy, spilling his coffee? It had seemed real…

What was happening.

A group of girl passed by, looking at something on their phone. Connor got a snippet of conversation.

_“...disappeared, his parents are freaking out.”_

_“Connor Murphy? Who even is that?_ ”

Connor stared at them as they walked away, then ran after them. “Hey. hey-- why the fuck are you talking about me?” He asked, grabbing one of them by the shoulder. She turned around, looking surprised. “What the hell are you saying?”

Then he was staring at her back as she walked away with the rest of her friends. Unaffected.

The phone, the lock, the coffee. He thought of the girl and the janitor… they hadn’t seen him. How hadn’t they seen him?

Students were heading towards the auditorium, walking in pairs and groups. Connor followed them, feeling dazed. They took their seats at the assembly, as Principal Howard took center stage, adjusting his microphone. “It’s been three days since Connor Murphy went missing...”

A feeling like ice snaking down his back. Three days since… ?

“We are doing everything we can to cooperate with the police, which is why they’ve asked me to hold this assembly. To ask you, _any_ of you… if you have any information on Connor’s disappearance, please come forward. We have reason to believe Connor may have been suffering from depression, and it’s important we find him as soon as possible. Thank you.”

This wasn’t happening. Disappeared? Three fucking days!? No, no no… it wasn’t. It wasn’t real. He was here, wasn’t he? He was here, right fucking here.

Suddenly overcome with anger, Connor picked up an empty chair and hurled it into the crowd. Students screamed and scattered. “I’m right here!” Connor shouted, trying to hold in hot tears. “I’m fucking right here!”

The crowd sat unperturbed. The chair was where he found it, untouched.

“And now, we’d like to hear a few words from Connor’s best friend... ” Connor turned slowly towards the stage. _Best friend…?_ “Evan Hansen.”

Lanky and awkward, Evan Hansen slowly stepped in front of the microphone. “Thanks, thank you. That was… thanks.” Evan stammered. He had cue cards in his hand, which shook as he shuffled through them. ‘Connor Murphy was my best friend.“ He said, his voice wavering on every other word.

“One time… at the orchard… I fell.” His shifted his cast awkwardly. Connor could still see his name written on it, in big bold letters. “But see, the thing is, when I looked up… Connor was there.” He paused, looking up. He didn’t need the notes he was prepared after all. “That’s the gift that he gave me… to show me that I wasn’t alone.” Looking out at the crowd, Evan Hansen says “And that’s what we need to show him, now. That wherever he is, he’s not alone. We will find him. Connor Murphy, you will be found.”

The crowd erupted around Connor, with cheers and shouts for Evan. Connor stood in the middle of them, deaf to their excitement.

_Orchard? Best friend? Evan fucking Hansen?_

Walking through the crowd, Connor felt like he was moving in slow motion. It was all making sense now, everything was coming together. Not Evan Hansen, or why everyone thought they’d been best friends when they hadn’t known each other…. But why he couldn’t be seen or heard, or touch anything or anyone.

Connor Murphy was dead. He had died when he'd taken those pills, after all. 

Evan Hansen was exploiting that. Why, and to what end, Connor didn’t know. But he was going to find out.

As the crowd filed out of the assembly, Evan began to leave the stage.

Knowing he could not be heard, Connor called after him. “You’re a fake, Evan Hansen. I know it and one day, everyone here will know it too!”

On the stage, Evan stopped, and looked around for who had spoken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an AU loosely based on the 2007 movie "The Invisible" with Justin Chatwin. Have you seen it? If you haven't, don't bother its not a good movie. But I have always liked the premise so I am stealing it. 
> 
> Also as a heads up I haven't read the book version yet (im going through it now for reference but I haven't finished it) so if there is an inconsistency with something mentioned in the book, that is why.


	3. Part 2: Limbo

_ “All places shall be hell that is not heaven.”   
_ _ ― Christopher Marlowe, _

Connor Murphy was in hell. He’d died, and this was hell. It was the only explanation. Quite honestly, he’d never really given much thought to an afterlife before. Heaven and hell, all that otherworldly bullshit had always seemed like… well… bullshit. It hadn’t stopped him from downing a bottle of pills, but if he’d known this was where he would end up, well… he might have paused. 

When he’d been alive, he’d thought he was invisible. No one saw him. At least, not the real him, whoever the fuck that was. People looked at him, and if their eyes stopped on him for more than a second they didn’t see a person, they saw the school freak. Crazy Connor Murphy with his baggy dark clothes and school shooter hair. People treated him like a bomb that could go off any minute, and maybe it was true. He had anger issues, he had outbursts he couldn’t control. But instead of offering help, or comfort or understanding… they had laughed. 

And so he’d done his best to make sure everyone would keep their distance. If they wanted to treat him like he was invisible then fine, fuck ‘em. Connor would disappear. 

Except now he had done so literally. 

The irony of the matter was, now that he was dead he seemed to be more popular than he’d ever been while he was alive. 

Connor spent the day following Evan Hansen around, and all day long people came up to Evan and talked about how  _ horrible  _ it was that Connor had disappeared. How  _ sad  _ it was that the police couldn’t find him. How they  _ hoped  _ he was alright. Connor wanted to laugh. Who were these people? Had he ever spoken to them before?  

And Evan, this fucking skinny brat who Connor had talked to maybe twice, would nod in commiseration. He missed Connor too, he’d say. He hoped they found him, and he hoped they found him soon. 

_ Bullshit!  _ Evan didn’t want them to find Connor, he was sure of it. Because had they been able to find Connor, had he been alive… it would have been all over for Evan. Everyone would have known he was lying. 

He would have been ruined. 

Luckily for Evan, Connor was dead. Eventually they would find his body, and then Evan would be free to continue his lie forever. 

After the day school ended, Connor continued stalking Evan. He wasn’t sure what he was hoping to gain from this, but it was slowly becoming an addiction, seeing what everyone thought of him now that he was gone. And Evan Hansen was the epicenter of it all. 

On his walk home from school, Connor wasn’t the only unwanted presence following Evan around. A girl with braided hair called Alana followed Evan almost right to his front door, talking about starting a GoFundMe in Connor’s name. 

“It’s a nice idea, Alana, I just don’t see… the police are looking for him, how is raising money going to help them?” Evan said. He looked down at his feet as he spoke, rarely making eye contact with the girl next to him. Alana on the other hand stared intently at Evan, with a focus that made even Connor uncomfortable. 

“We could raise money for a search party, to buy food and drinks for volunteers,” Alana said, walking quickly next to Evan. “Or for Connor’s family, or for--” 

“The Murphy’s are rich, I don’t think they need our help,” 

“Well then, what about the orchard?” Alana asked. 

“What about it?” 

“You said it was his favourite place, and you and him would go there and spend time together...” Alana went on. Connor made a face. “It closed down years ago. Maybe if we raise enough money, we could reopen it. And then when they find him… he’ll have that.” 

The look on Evan’s face told Connor he hated that plan. Alana didn’t seem to get the message. “I’ll get working on it right away,” She said. “Bye Evan, see you tomorrow!”

Waving halfheartedly at Alana’s retreating figure, Evan lowered his head and headed into his home. It was a small home, but nicely decorated. Evan kicked off his shoes and headed right his bedroom, and Connor followed, taking in the house as he went. Pictures lined the walls, mostly of Evan and a blonde woman Connor assumed was Evan’s mom. A dark haired man appeared infrequently in the pictures. Evan’s dad, most likely. 

Once he reached his bedroom, Evan threw himself down on his bed, picked up a pillow and screamed into it. 

Connor snorted. “The hell do you have to be screaming about?” 

Evan bolted upright on his bed, his eyes wide. Connor stared back.  _ Had he heard him?  _

Looking around wildly, Evan ran out his room and into the bathroom, where he splashed water on his face. “It’s not real, it’s not real….” He muttered. 

Connor stood behind him, his heart beating. What did it mean if Evan had heard him? Why did he care? Because maybe... if he could communicate with him… maybe he could tell Evan where his body was. It was a long shot, but maybe if he was found, and put to rest or whatever… maybe he could move on. 

Whatever the fuck moving on meant. 

Breathing heavily, Evan braced his good arm on the side of the washroom sink. He looked up into the mirror. Connor looked at him, seeing them both reflected in the mirror. 

Evan made eye contact with Connor’s reflection. Letting out a rather girlish scream, Evan turned around, putting a hand on his heart. “It’s not real, it’s not real...” He went on, brushing past Connor and making a bee line back to his bedroom. “It’s anxiety, it’s stress, you’re having a nervous breakdown--” 

Connor sighed, and went after Evan. He obviously still couldn’t see him entirely yet, just bits and flashes. He needed him to  _ see  _ him, needed to be able to get through to him. 

Evan was fumbling with a box on his bedside table. He opened it and took out a bottle of prescription pills. Holding the pill bottle with the hand that had the cast, Evan used his good hand to open to bottle and take a pill. He lay back on his bed and closed his eyes. 

Looming over him, Connor tried to gently advise Evan of his presence. “Evan, wake the fuck up!” He shouted. 

Evan jumped again, upon opening his eyes and seeing Connor, screamed and rolled off the bed. “No, no no, you’re dead, you’re probably dead….” 

“I am dead, Evan, and I need your help.” Connor squatted in front of Evan, who was huddled on the floor. “Evan, look at me. Fucking look at me!”

Slowly, Evan moved his hands from away from his face, and looked at Connor. “How are you here?” 

“It’s because you’ve been telling lies about me, Evan,” Connor said solemnly. “You’re lies are keeping me tied to this earthly plane, where I must suffer in torment now.” 

Evan’s eyes went wide with horror. Connor snorted. “I’m fucking with you, idiot. I have no idea why I’m here. Or why you’re the only one who can see or hear me.” 

Shoving past him and standing up, Evan scowled. “That’s not funny,” He muttered. He turned around and looked at Connor, who straightened up as well. “Are you really dead?” 

“Yeah, obviously,” Connor said. “Not many living people turn into ghosts, do they?” Evan shrugged by way of response. “Why did  _ you  _ think I was dead? Most people just think I’m missing. You said I was probably dead.” 

Evan hesitated. “Because… it’s your parents. They think you killed yourself. They’re trying to hold out hope, that the police will still find you alive… but I’m not sure they really believe that. Although that is kind of my fault. But I just… I thought you did too. Kill yourself, I mean. I don’t know why I just had.. Had a sense?” 

He said all this very quickly, and at varying volumes and pitches. 

Connor raised an eyebrow. “You had a sense?” Evan nodded quickly. “That’s dumb. What if I was alive, huh? What if they found me and I came back and said ‘who the fuck is Evan Hansen?’” 

“I… well my plan was… see, I was just kind of going to like…. Cross that bridge when I came to it?” Evan confessed. “I don’t actually have a plan. All of this was an accident.” 

Sitting down on Evan’s bed, Connor looked at him. “Elaborate.” 

“Well, I guess it’s the reason your parents think you killed yourself. You see, they kind of found my note.” 

“Your note?” Connor repeated. “The  _ Dear Evan Hansen  _ one? About Zoe?”

“It’s not, it wasn’t… it’s not about Zoe, I just mentioned her. It was an assignment, from my therapist. I was supposed to write a letter to myself everyday. Dear Evan Hansen, today’s going to be a great day and here’s why...” He trailed off, wringing his hands together. “Only it wasn’t great, so I was honest, and then you found it… and then  _ they  _ found it. Only they thought it was your suicide note. They thought you wrote it, to me.” 

Evan looked at the ground as he finished. Connor stared at him. “They think  _ I  _ wrote it?” He asked. “Fuck. So that’s why they think we were friends, because I addressed my suicide note to you?” Evan nodded. “And you just, what, didn’t feel like correcting them?”

“I tried!” Evan insisted. “I wanted to. But I couldn’t. It was like… that note was all they had of you. And me… I’m their last connection to you. I couldn’t take that away from them. It would be cruel.” 

“Cruel is tricking my grieving parents into thinking you’re someone that you’re not.” Connor said blandly.

Evan at least had the decency to look ashamed. “I’m sorry. I’ll tell them the truth, I’ll tell everyone. It was wrong.” 

Connor sighed. “Evan, I don’t actually care. Do whatever the fuck you want. It pissed me off at first but honestly, I just want to get the hell out of here. So if you help me, I’ll help you.” 

Evan swallowed. “How do you want me to help you?”

"I need you find my body," Connor said. "I think it's the only way I can get out of here. Move on, or whatever." He looked at Evan. "What do you need?"

They came up with a plan. Evan needed to produce emails, from Connor, to him. “My family friend Jared and I tried writing a few but they sounded kind of fake. They’re in my drafts...” 

Connor read over them, and agreed they were not the best.

“ _ Dear Evan Hansen, sorry I’ve been out of touch.”  _ Connor read. “ _ Things have been crazy. Life without you has been difficult. I really miss talking to you about life and other stuff. _ ”

“I thought that one wasn’t so bad,” Evan mumbled, fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt. Connor looked at him. “Ok so it doesn’t really sound like you… at all...”

“It doesn’t sound like  _ anyone, _ ” Connor corrected. “Whoever this person is had no personality, or life. What, he loved trees? Who loves trees?”

Evan looked away and muttered something Connor couldn’t hear. 

Connor took the computer from him and began to type. A second later, the computer was back on Evan’s desk. Connor balled his fists up angrily. “Fuckin’ peice of shit...” He took a deep breath. “Ok, you type.” 

“Dear Evan Hansen, sorry I haven’t written more, but frankly who actually emails anymore? Why aren’t we doing this over whatsapp or something. I’m gonna send you a whatsapp. Cheers, Connor Murphy.” 

Flopping down on Evan’s bed, Connor smiled at Evan. “Boom. Done.” 

Evan glared. “I told them we sent emails.” 

“Right, from my secret email account,” Connor scoffed. “You know that sounds pretty gay, right? Everyone probably thinks we were gay.” 

Evan looked offended. “Well I don’t think so. Sometimes two men can have an affectionate bond that involves secretly sending emails to each other, whilst keeping their platonic love hidden from the rest of the world and okay fine I hear it now.” Evan put his head in his hands. “It does sound gay.” 

Connor shrugged. “I mean, who cares? It’s 2019, you can be gay. No one cares.” 

“I never said I was!” Evan said, sitting up. “Why, do I seem gay? Because I’m not. I have feelings for--for somebody. A girl.” 

“Right. My sister?” 

Evan looked panicked.   
  
“It’s fine, because I don’t think you really do. I think you have an idealized version of Zoe in your head, and  _ that’s  _ who you have feelings for. But you’ve never spoken to her, or gotten to know her, because you’re worried you won’t actually like the real Zoe. That she won’t live up to the fantasy.” 

Evan’s face turned red. “Well… Well so what?”

“Well nothing,” Connor said, staring up at the ceiling. “Just that I wouldn’t use Zoe as your only reason for not being gay. I mean, I get it. Why like idiotic cheerleaders and nerdy debate club girls when you can like mouth breathing jocks and morons like your friend Jared?” 

“Family friend,” Evan corrected. “It doesn’t sound like you’re fond of any gender.” 

Connor thought for a moment. “It’s not about gender. It’s about people. I don’t like… people.” He paused, glancing at Evan. “You’re okay.”

“Because I’m not a person?” Evan asked. 

“Exactly, you’re more like… the personification of anxiety, in a striped shirt.” 

Evan glowered, and went back to his computer. “Dear Evan Hansen, I’m sorry I haven’t written in a while...” Evan began, obviously trying to change the subject. 

“I haven’t written in a while because sometimes I can barely get out of bed, let alone open my computer and draft an email.” Connor started. "Because even simple things like showering or eating is hard, and communication is the worst, especially because I can only assume no one wants to hear from me. I’ve thought about sending you something, but everything I think sounds so horrible I didn’t want to inflict that on another person. Sorry we don’t talk as much, it’s my fault. Sincerely, Connor.”

Listening to the sounds of Evan finishing typing up what he said, Connor looked over once the typing noise stopped. “What?” He asked. 

Evan was staring at him. “Nothing, nothing,” He said, turning back to the computer. “It just, it needs to end, sincerely me. That’s how my other one ended.” 

“Okay then,” Connor said. “Sincerely, me.”

For the next few hours, Connor and Evan drafted several more letters, which would prove to Connor’s parents that they had in fact been friends. They wrote about places they went and things they did, and showed Evan’s attempts to stand by Connor despite his difficulties and help him. Evan, it turned out, was actually a fairly decent writer once he got over his own self doubt. Together they came up with ideas with both Connor’s and Evan’s side of the emails. 

By the end, even Connor was getting to weaving the tall tale. 

“The last letter should be bittersweet,” Connor said, pacing by Evan’s desk as Evan wrote. “I should sound like I want to try and get better, because you’ve helped so much.” He turned to Evan. “But I just can’t.” 

Evan nodded. He began to type, but it slowed after a moment. He turned to Connor. “Can I ask you something?” 

Connor shrugged. “Shoot.” 

“All this stuff we’re putting in the emails, about how you couldn’t get out of bed and hated life and were angry all the time at everybody, is that really how you felt? Do you really mean all that?” 

“No,” Connor said seriously. “I killed myself because things were going amazing and I loved life.”

Evan looked away. “Right sorry that was stupid, forget I asked. I’m an idiot.” 

“It’s fine, you’re not an idiot.” Connor said. He looked at Evan. “Did you mean what you said, in your letter?” 

“I… no, no of course not,” Evan said hastily. “I was just upset that day, that’s all. I’m fine. Really, I’m fine.” 

Connor looked at him, and for the first time he thought he saw Evan for who he truly was. He was just like Connor, scared and alone and refusing to admit it. Evan fiddled with a fraying piece of his cast. “What happened to your arm?” 

“I told you, I fell out of a tree,” Evan murmured, glancing away. 

“Did you fall, Evan?” Connor asked. “Or did you let go?” 

_ Bang! _

Before Evan could respond, something crashed into Evan’s window, causing them both to jump. “What the--” Connor said, turning around. It was dark outside now, and hard to see what happened. Evan went over to the window and lifted it up. 

“It’s a bird,” Evan said, looking at the crumpled figure of a small bird on his window sill. Connor moved to get a closer look, but suddenly the bird was beside him, on his shoulder. It seemed happy and healthy and alive, and it flew from one shoulder to another, tweeting pretty notes. “I guess it crashed into the window....” 

“Evan, look,” Connor said. 

Evan turned around and saw the bird on Connor’s shoulder. “But… how…?”

“I guess this is just happens when you die… you come here, where I am,” Connor said slowly. He gently lifted the bird off his shoulder, and held in his hands. “Maybe if we lay him to rest, we can find out if my moving on theory will work.” 

“Uh, Connor...” Connor looked up, and saw Evan looking at the birds body. Connor looked closer, and his heart skipped a bit. The birds chest was moving up and down -- ever so slightly, but still. It was alive. As they watched, the breathing slowed, and finally, stopped altogether. Connor looked down, and found the bird in his hands was gone. Disappeared. 

Connor blinked. 

Evan looked at him. “Do you know what this means?” He asked. 

Connor felt number. “It means I’m alive.” He said quietly. He thought the of the bird, disappearing once it had died. 

Connor Murphy was alive. But for how much longer, he didn’t know. 

Time was running out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added another chapter, because I'm not sure I can wrap it up with just one more. The bird scene is basically stolen directly from the movie this is based on, but it seemed like the best way to convey that Connor isn't dead yet so yeah. I think my version of Connor seems a little too calm based on the bit we saw and heard about him from the play, but my reasoning here is that being "dead" has given him a little perspective.


End file.
